


you bring me sunshine

by alison



Category: Clean Bandit (Band), Years & Years (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dom/sub Undertones, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, Festivals, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Summer, Touring, Verbal Humiliation, discussion of various kinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-30 01:54:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5145947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alison/pseuds/alison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Olly and Neil are playing many of the same festivals over the course of a summer. A one-time hook-up becomes so much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you bring me sunshine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleMousling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMousling/gifts).



> Warnings: On-screen sex includes consensual/previously discussed kink, including verbal degradation, slight dom/sub undertones, and some public sex. There are references to past experiences of verbal degradation during sex that are not consensual. Only the degradation is non-con, not the sex itself, and the mentions are fairly fleeting. But please be careful and do not read if you could be triggered by that.
> 
> Littlemousling: I hope you enjoy this!!! I apologize for the lack of thistle sex. 1. I couldn't figure out the logistics of it. (Honestly, Neil, how do you...) 2. It hurts to think about. :/
> 
> Giant thanks to Emmy for betaing/britpicking! You're so great.

 

Olly has found himself a nice patch of grass and he’s watching the clouds crawl across the sky, the sun flickering between them. It’s cool out, but not cold, and when the sun peeks out it feels perfect. The sun is being tricky, though, hiding more than shining.

They’ve got all of their gear set up and ready to go and Emre and Mikey have both disappeared, saying something about food. Olly’s got a melody in his head that he’s been trying to put words to since he lay down on the grass, but he can’t string anything together. A word here or there, nothing worth pulling out his phone to make a note of.

The melody is interrupted by nearby laughter and, when he turns his head to find where it’s coming from, he sees a pretty blonde woman laughing. He only looks at her for a moment, though, because beside her is possibly the most attractive man that he’s ever seen, and he’s staring right back at Olly.

It actually takes his breath away for a moment, seeing those gorgeous dark eyes trained so unabashedly on him. The man’s expression slowly shifts, his lips curling up, and Olly has to look away to hide the fact that he’s blushing. He forces himself to breathe, looking up at the sky, and when he gathers the courage to look back, the man is standing, his back toward Olly, and he’s walking away with the blonde and another woman.

Olly watches him walk away, his gaze lingering on the muscled shoulders exposed by the man’s vest. For a moment he wonders if the guy is some sort of security guard, even though he’s not dressed the part. He doesn’t dwell on it though. It was just a look, just a fleeting moment, and Olly would be silly to think too much of it. Instead, he turns to the sun and waits for it to shine down on him again.

-

He’s on stage when he sees him again. They’re halfway through their set and he turns to look at Emre, but past him, at side stage, is that same guy. He’s smiling now, bobbing his head to the beat, and he’s still staring right at Olly. It trips him up for a second, but he turns back to the crowd, focusing on them instead. He doesn’t manage to forget that he’s being watched by arguably the most beautiful man in the world, but he gets through the set without bursting into flames at least.

When the last note of the last song cuts off, he thanks the audience, waves, and jogs off stage. The guy is still there and Olly’s feeling the adrenaline from performing, so he goes right up to him, still breathless from the set.

“Enjoy the show?” he asks, grabbing a bottle of water from a cooler next to him. He twists the lid off and gulps down as much as he can in one breath and the guy – fuck, his eyes drift down to Olly’s throat as he swallows. He’s not shy about it at all and Olly is pretty sure he’s getting hard just from this bloke’s eyes on him.

“Loved it. You guys sound great,” he finally answers, smirking. He hesitates for a moment before adding, “Look great, too.”

Olly is grateful that he’s already red from the exertion of performing because his blush at that statement would have been impossible to miss otherwise. As it is, he has to look down for a second to compose himself. “Yeah, I think Emre’s been working out,” he jokes, not sure how to take the blatant compliment with any kind of poise. “And Mikey, well, he’s just a handsome lad, isn’t he?”

The bloke cracks a smile and Olly nearly rolls his eyes because the smouldering thing is hot as fuck, but the smile is possibly even worse. “They’re lovely, I’m sure,” he answers, through his confident smile. “But, honestly I barely got a look at them. Too distracted by your rather intriguing dance moves.”

The bloke pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, looking down, and then he looks up at Olly through his lashes like he’s practiced the look in the mirror. It doesn’t diminish the effect; even if it is a tried-and-tested move, even if Olly is the hundredth boy to fall for it, he doesn’t care. He’s just finished his first festival show of the summer and he’s got excitement pumping through his veins. And really, what are festivals for if not to hook up with outrageously attractive strangers?

“I’ve got more,” he says, lowering his voice. He doesn’t pull off the confident, sexy vibe that this guy has going, but he’ll work with what he’s got. “I could show you?”

The guy smiles, slow and wide, and then steps closer, right into Olly’s space. “Fuck, yeah, you can,” he nearly growls out. “What’s your name, pet?”

“Olly,” Olly answers, his breath hitching when a hand curls over the side of his waist. “Yours?”

The bloke hunches down and presses his lips to Olly’s neck, soft, like a promise of what’s to come. “Neil,” he answers, with a small scrape of teeth.

With the formalities out of the way, Neil takes Olly’s hand and gently tugs him away from the stage, cocking his head toward the spread of buses, vans, and trailers in a gravel area beyond the stage. Olly follows along, not sure where they’re headed, but not much caring.

They slip through the rows of vehicles, only bumping into a few people out here. Olly would offer up his band’s van, but Neil seems to know where he’s going, leading them all the way to the last row, where the gravel has faded into grass. He pulls Olly behind a big trailer, only a thick line of shrubbery and trees beyond it. It’s a fairly secluded spot back here and, sure, someone could see them if they were to walk all the way to the back, but somehow that makes it more fun.

Olly purposely doesn’t think about the fact that Neil had dragged him directly to this spot, like he’d already known how perfect it would be for just this use. Like he’d already used it, even.

“You’re really hot,” Neil breathes out once he’s pushed Olly back against the side of the trailer, just staring.

“Do I need to tell you that, too, or do you already know?” Olly asks with a smirk. “Sure you hear it all the bloody time.”

At that, Neil pouts, stepping right into Olly, strong hands falling to his hips. “Never hurts to hear something like that, especially from someone you’re about to fuck.”

Olly’s eyes roll back as Neil leans down, kissing his neck again, with more purpose this time. He starts sucking, his tongue doing magical things, and Olly has to fight off a pitiful whimper at the feeling. “Is that what’s happening here? I thought we were just going for a nice stroll.” It would sound bitingly sarcastic if his voice wasn’t trembling, choked from trying not to moan.

“We did go for a stroll,” Neil practically whispers, his lips traveling closer to Olly’s ear, “and now I’m gonna get down on my knees for you. That sound okay?”

A full-body shiver runs through Olly as he nods stupidly and watches Neil sink down to his knees so gracefully that he must have had loads of practice. Olly’s still riding the high of performing for their biggest crowd yet and his trousers are tented and the man looking up at him is so hot that it makes his chest ache. He fights to take deep breaths as his dick is taken out of his trousers and slipped directly into Neil’s mouth, warm and wet and so, so wonderful.

All of this is so mad that it feels like he’s in a vivid dream or maybe just caught up in an in-depth fantasy. He drops his head back against the trailer behind him and lets out a long sigh, getting lost somewhere between reality and the depths of his own mind. He feels like he might float away on the feeling, so he slides a hand into Neil’s hair, curls his fingers into it just to anchor himself to something.

All he can hear are the distant sounds of the festival, a throbbing bassline and screaming, and the high-definition wet sucking sounds of Neil on his cock. He looks down and watches, his breath catching in his chest when the man looks up at him. He even looks hot with his messy wet mouth stretched wide around a dick.

Hotter, even, considering that the dick is Olly’s.

Neil moves a hand from where it had been resting on Olly’s thigh, reaching between his legs. He touches his balls, plays with them for a moment, but then he keeps moving. As he grazes the sensitive skin behind them, Olly lets out an involuntary noise. He’s desperate with how good it feels, how good all of this feels, and when Neil moves his fingertips just a bit more and touches his hole, Olly nearly falls over. His muscles give out and he slumps heavily against the trailer, closing his eyes and letting Neil touch him curiously.

“Please,” he whispers without even realizing that he’s saying it aloud.

Neil gives him a few more sucks before popping off of his cock and smirking breathlessly up at him. “Since you asked so nicely,” he says, his voice hoarser now, and then sucks his index finger into his mouth. Olly’s heart trips in his chest as he watches Neil pull it out again, shining with spit, and move his hand between his legs again.

All at once, Neil is taking Olly’s cock into his mouth again and touching Olly’s hole with a wet finger, carefully dipping it inside.

It’s just one finger, just up to the knuckle, but it’s intimate and overwhelming and Olly doesn’t even _know_ this bloke, but he feels like he’s being fully fucked. Neil is inside him and it’s just a little bit, but it hits him so hard that he comes only a few seconds later, before he can even gasp out a warning.

Neil handles it with grace, though, as he’s handled everything else. He swallows it all without even a grunt of displeasure, sucks Olly through it until he’s empty and sensitive and still clenching down on the finger inside of him. When Neil pulls off, he’s still smirking, apparently pleased with his ability to make Olly come so suddenly that he’s lost his breath.

“Was that alright then?” Neil asks, a glint in his eye that tells Olly that he knows full well that it was more than alright.

“Not bad,” Olly answers, his voice quivering. “B, maybe B plus.”

Neil laughs, seeing right through Olly, and pulls his finger out. Olly tries not to frown when it’s gone and he’s successful for the most part, but he’s still fairly sure that Neil can see right through him. He doesn’t look down to meet the bloke’s gaze until he hears the slide of a zip. When he does look, he sees Neil pulling his own cock out. And it’s fucking beautiful, just like the rest of them.

“Do you want to do me? Or shall I get on with it myself?” He’s already stroking himself slowly, looking up at Olly with his eyebrows ticked up in a question.

Olly is still a bit winded, but Neil is hard just from blowing him and his cock is fucking perfect and Olly isn’t going to let the opportunity pass him by. “I want,” he answers, nodding, and drops to his knees much less gracefully than Neil.

He’s expecting Neil to stand up, but he doesn’t move. He stays on his knees, still lazily wanking himself, and he stares at Olly with a smile that slowly fades into something slightly more predatory.

“You take this,” he murmurs, taking Olly’s hand and pulling it to his cock, “and I’ll take this.” Olly can’t even register what’s happening before Neil is kissing him.

It isn’t what he was expecting, but he quickly adjusts, sinking into the kiss and moving his hand. Neil is thick and heavy in his palm and just touching him is making Olly feel like maybe he could get hard again already. Setting a quick rhythm, he focuses on trying to keep it as steady as possible. It’s hard, though, because Neil’s lips are as nice as his dick.

“Really good,” Neil breathes out between them before he’s pushing in harder, licking into Olly’s mouth. His tongue is unbelievable, as good against Olly’s own tongue as it was on his cock. He chokes back a whimper, aware that it should be _Neil_ whimpering right now. Olly’s already had his orgasm, but it’s all still so good that he can’t help it.

“You’re so hot,” Neil whispers, nipping at Olly’s lips, and it’s as bizarre this time as it was the first time he’d said it. Olly doesn’t exactly think he’s unattractive or anything, far from it, but being told that he’s hot by _this guy_ is fucking disorienting.  

“You – you’re,” he stutters out into the kiss, not sure what exactly to say. Everything that pops into his mind sounds pitiful compared to how he really feels.

“I’m what?” Neil asks, finally pulling away from Olly’s lips. When Olly blinks his eyes open, he sees Neil’s pink cheeks and lidded eyes, his kiss-swollen lips. He looks even better now, if it’s possible. “Tell me. What am I?” There’s at least a little hitch in his breath from Olly’s ministrations to his cock, but he’s still so composed that it’s downright annoying; Olly still feels like he’s going to pass out.

“You’re the hottest person I’ve ever seen,” Olly answers, a blush burning his skin. “I’m still not sure you’re not a product of a very vivid fantasy I’m having.”

The look that Neil gives him in response is hard to identify. His lips don’t curl up, but there’s a smile somewhere in the expression. He bites at his bottom lip for a second, gazing back at Olly before reaching down and grabbing his hand.

“I want to finish in your mouth. Can I?” he asks, already moving to his feet. When he’s towering over Olly, crowding in on him, Olly feels a lot like he’s praying at an altar. He looks up and thinks that this could certainly be his religion, that he could probably worship this man from his knees forever.

It’s a ridiculous thought, but he’s so caught up in the surreal moment that he doesn’t think twice about it. He just nods and opens his mouth, lets Neil angle his cock into it and sucks greedily.

It only takes a minute or two more before Neil is gripping Olly’s curls just tightly enough, canting his hips forward and spilling into Olly’s eager mouth. Olly swallows around him, holding onto Neil’s hips, and only pulls off when Neil’s grip in his hair goes lax. He drops his head, breathing heavily, and waits for the inevitable sound of a zip followed by receding footsteps. Instead, he feels fingers gently carding through his hair for a long moment before Neil drops to his knees in front of Olly.

“Christ, you’re really –”

“Hot?” Olly guesses, smiling and lifting his gaze to Neil’s.

Neil smiles, too, and shakes his head, bringing a hand to Olly’s cheek. “Fantastic,” he corrects softly.

If Olly had had a hard time accepting Neil calling him hot, he has no idea how to handle this one. He looks away, off to the side like he’s checking to see if anyone’s appeared, and he jolts in surprise when Neil leans in and presses their lips together, soft and sweet this time. Olly closes his eyes and enjoys it for the moment, knowing that they’ll likely never see each other again.

And, honestly, that’s fine. Olly doesn’t have a great track record with relationships and this has been one of his better one-off hook ups, so it’s really for the best. A nice memory to take with him.

“Right, I’ve got to get going,” Neil whispers, breaking the kiss. “We’re playing a show up north tomorrow, got a long drive. We’re supposed to be heading out any minute, probably.”

Olly probably could have guessed that Neil is in a band, what with him being backstage at a music festival, but he still hadn’t really put it together in his mind. It had all happened too fast for him to think much about Neil at all, aside from the more physical aspects of him.

“What’s your band called?”

“Clean Bandit,” Neil answers and, when Olly’s face twists up curiously at the name, he adds, “It’s a long story.”

“All right,” Olly says, even though he’s still curious about that story. He wants to ask more, like what instrument Neil plays and how long they’ve been together. He wants to know so much more about this man, but he swallows it all down because there isn’t time and there isn’t really a point. Sometimes it’s best to just leave things when they’re good.

“I’ll see you around, I hope?” Neil says, leaning in for one more kiss, one that feels a lot more like a goodbye.

“Sure, yeah,” Olly answers, even though he knows that they’re just words. “Safe travels and all that.” He smiles as Neil gets to his feet, finally tucking his soft cock back into his trousers. It reminds Olly that his own is still out and he busies himself with straightening himself up, waiting for Neil to walk away. He hesitates, though, standing in front of where Olly is still on his knees.

“Hey,” he says softly, curling his fingers under Olly’s chin and tipping his face up. “Thank you for this. You really are fucking fantastic.”

Olly doesn’t have time to freeze up this time. Neil leans down and kisses him, a soft lingering kiss that tingles over Olly’s lips long after Neil has pulled away and walked off, back toward the festival. Once Olly’s trousers are properly up, he flops onto his back in the grass, watching the sky start to change colours as the sun creeps toward the horizon.

The melody from earlier is back in Olly’s head so suddenly that he can’t be sure that it wasn’t there the whole time.

-

The following week brings a couple of small shows, a few days back home, and then it’s time for their next festival. Almost every weekend of the summer will be spent playing festivals because, at this point in their careers, it’s the best way to get their name out there. It’s a mixed bag, playing to audiences that don’t really know their material and aren’t there for them, but it’s fun all the same. The atmosphere is always one of a great big party.

Olly had intentionally not thought much of Neil over the past week. Or, at least he’d tried; when he’d gone back home and lay in bed at night, there was only so much not thinking about Neil that he could do. But other than those private moments, he’d gotten on with things. He hadn’t googled Neil or Clean Bandit, hadn’t looked up their touring schedule, deciding that if they happen to bump into each other, that’s great. If not, that’s fine, too.

But the day before the festival, Olly is handed a sheet of paper with the schedule for their stage and he looks for Years & Years, finding them in the 16:00 slot. Directly after them on the same stage is Clean Bandit.

Olly’s first reaction is to laugh because it’s fucking hilarious. He’s finally got to a place where he doesn’t feel the need to go looking for every amazing one night stand afterward, and now, Neil has been dropped into his lap.

“What’s so funny?” Emre asks from the seat next to him.

Olly just shakes his head and passes the list of set times along. “Nothing,” he answers, wiping at his face. “Nothing, it’s fine.”

Honestly, he’d usually jump at the chance to talk about it, to explain that he’d exchanged incredible orgasms with a very, very attractive member of the band playing after them. He’d usually go into so much detail that Emre would be plugging his ears and loudly begging him to stop, but this time he doesn’t want to. He can’t even figure out why.

When they get to the festival, Olly tries his best not to actively look for Neil, but it’s always there in the back of his mind. They run through a quick soundcheck in the morning and then they split off for a few hours. Olly watches a couple of sets and eats lunch and he doesn’t see Neil anywhere. When it starts nearing 16:00, he heads back to their stage to get ready to go on.

Backstage, he finally sees him. He looks up and sees Neil, talking to Emre of all people.

“Oh, there he is,” Emre shouts when he sees Olly approaching.

“Here I am,” Olly answers, his curious gaze dragging over to Neil. He’s smiling back, a similar look to that one he’d put on last time, all coquettish with the raised eyebrows and the half-bitten lip. Fuck, he really is hot.

“Neil here was asking after you, said you two met last week?” Emre goes on, apparently unaware of the sexual tension that Olly can feel. “Anyway, we go on in fifteen. Don’t run off again.” He turns and leaves then, and Olly takes a deep breath, looking up at Neil.

“Hi,” he says, trying to sound casual. Instead, it comes out far too chipper, high and squeaky.

Neil chuckles at him, his eyes squinting into slits as he laughs, and he steps closer, the gap between them dissolving to nothing. “Hi,” he repeats as his laughter fades into that same confident smirk that Olly had burned into his memory. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Fancy that,” Olly answers with a nod. “Saw you guys are going on after us. I’ll finally get to see you perform.” He mentally slaps himself because ‘finally’ sounds a bit much. They met once. They gave each other orgasms once. There’s no ‘finally’ to be had.

Neil doesn’t seem to notice it though. “So, if you’re sticking around to watch us play, does that mean you’re sticking around long enough to have a repeat of last time?”

Olly’s breath catches so subtly that he thinks maybe Neil hasn’t noticed that either. “You don’t have anywhere to be after?”

Leaning in close, Neil’s lips falling over Olly’s ear, he whispers, “Only wherever you are, gorgeous.”

Olly physically shivers at that and he feels ridiculous because it’s not even that good of a line, but in Neil’s voice, with Neil’s breath against his skin, it sounds like the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. He’s not used to guys being so openly complimentary; usually they just ask if he wants to fuck, plain and simple. But Neil is different and Olly is sure that that’s just how he is, that it’s nothing to do with Olly, but he enjoys it nonetheless.

“All right,” he answers. His skin is warm and he’s sure he’s blushing, but he’s not going to let it show how much Neil can affect him with just a few words. “Then, yeah, I’m up for another go.”

Neil smiles down at him, drops a hand to Olly’s side and runs his knuckles over it. “Good,” he says, his voice low. “After last time, I looked you up and saw that you’d be here. All week I’ve been looking forward to getting my mouth on you again.”

“God,” Olly chokes out, covering his face. He smiles into his palms, in disbelief that someone so fit has been thinking about _him._ Looked _him_ up. Wants _him._ He’s fucked plenty of fit blokes, but rarely do they come around for a second go.

Before he can think of anything else to say, Neil leans in again, whispering into his ear. “Just something to think about when you’re dancing around on stage. Have a good show, sunshine.” With a light kiss to Olly’s cheek, he walks away then, leaving Olly to burst into flames alone.

Magically, he doesn’t actually burst into flames, even though his skin feels hot enough for it.

-

After the set, Olly sticks around off to the side of the stage to watch Clean Bandit. He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but when Neil walks out holding a violin, he nearly crumples to the floor. Their music is fantastic, fun and eclectic, and once Olly gets over the sight of ridiculously-fit Neil playing _a violin,_ he can’t help but bounce on his heels as he watches.

A few times, Neil catches his eye off stage and winks, and Olly feels like a proper fangirl. He hadn’t even heard the band before, but their performance is so good that Olly feels like a massive fan already. And Neil just looks like a star, his confidence making him look right at home on stage.

When they’re finished, Olly waits for Neil to get his violin and equipment stored away, watches as he has a quick word with the blonde singer – who Olly had recognised from that first time he’d seen Neil – and then grins as Neil jogs over to him.

“Ready?” he asks, as if Olly hasn’t just been standing awkwardly against the wall, waiting for him.

Olly feels a flutter of butterflies as Neil reaches down and takes Olly’s hand into his, pulling him away. “Ready,” he answers, following along. “Can’t wait to see what patch of grass you’re taking me to this time.”

Next to him, Neil laughs, squeezes his hand, and trudges onward without a response.

-

“Fuck, you’re lovely,” Neil whispers into Olly’s lips where they’ve been snogging on the sofa for at least fifteen minutes.

Neil hadn’t taken him to a patch of grass at all, but instead to an actual tour bus. It’s not anything fancy, but it seems it to Olly, who often still has to sleep on Mikey’s lap in the van between cities. The tour bus, though, isn’t half as surprising as the fact that Neil had pushed him back onto the sofa, started snogging him, and still hasn’t stopped. Olly had expected to be choking on Neil’s cock by now. Instead, he’s breathless, panting into Neil’s mouth, pulling him closer and impossibly closer.

“Thought we were going to have a repeat of last time,” Olly says roughly between kisses, because he doesn’t know what to say to Neil’s statement. “You know, with orgasms.”

Neil pulls away from his lips then, looking down at Olly with his eyebrows drawn together. “Oh, shit, do you have somewhere to be? Sorry, I should’ve asked.”

“No, no, I’ve got time,” Olly answers.

Neil studies him for another moment, and then dips down to press another, lighter kiss to Olly’s lips. “Then what’s the rush? You want to skip over this part?”

It’s tricky because half of Olly is screaming that, yes, he wants to get on with it because he’s hard in his trousers and he wants more. But the other half of him never wants to stop kissing Neil, never wants to stop running his hands over his strong arms and muscled shoulders, into his wonderfully soft hair. He wants both, wants to drag it out and get on with it at the same time.

“No,” he finally answers, deciding that he doesn’t want to wish any second of this away.

Neil’s lips turn into a smile against Olly’s as he kisses him again, deeply, his tongue pressing into Olly’s mouth. This time, though, he shifts his hips just enough that Olly can feel where Neil’s hard in his trousers, too, their erections pushing together through too much fabric. Olly lets out a soft moan at the feeling and wraps his legs around Neil, trying to pull him even closer.

“So lovely,” Neil repeats, the words murmured as he thrusts against Olly to build up some friction. He sounds more affected now, not quite so cocksure, like this is doing the same thing to him that it’s doing to Olly.

It only takes a couple of minutes of that before Olly is dropping his head back, too disoriented to keep up the kiss. As if taking it as a hint, Neil starts moving down, kissing down over Olly’s chin to his neck. After spending a minute there, he moves down lower, licking at Olly’s collarbones before hitting the neckline of his t-shirt.

“Can we take this off?” he asks, biting at the material and tugging it.

Olly doesn’t need to think about that, just reaches down and grabs the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one quick motion. Neil doesn’t tease him about his eagerness, just presses his mouth to Olly’s chest, kissing and licking and scraping his teeth over the skin. When he gently flicks his tongue over Olly’s nipple, Olly arches into it, sucking in a harsh breath.

“Good?” Neil asks, doing it again, his gaze pointed up to Olly’s face.

Olly looks down at him and feels like he’s coming apart at the seams. Neil licks again, his tongue catching on the small nub, and Olly can’t help but whimper at how good it feels. He’s been hard for ages and, honestly, at this point his pants are probably soaked with how desperate he feels.

“I’d like to spend hours with you like this,” Neil murmurs, still looking up at him, kissing over Olly’s chest and always coming back to his nipples. “Tease you for ages until you’re begging to come.”

Olly nods frantically because he’d fucking love that. As badly as he wants to come now, he’d love to be kept on the edge like that, having to wait until Neil is satisfied enough to let him finish. He can’t go putting any stock in that, though, because he can’t have any expectations about future meetings like this. He’ll just be let down if he lets himself hope that it will happen again.

“What if – what if I asked you to get me off first?” Neil asks. He’s moving down again, kissing over Olly’s navel and down to the light hairs below it, leading to his low-slung trousers. Olly stares, his mouth parted around his erratic breaths, watching as Neil kisses him there slowly. Just below, his cock is pressed obscenely against his trousers, not getting the attention it so desperately needs.

“Yeah,” he finally answers around his dry throat. “Yeah, I want that.”

“Yeah?” Neil asks, looking up at him again. “Get me off before I let you come?”

Olly wants to come so badly, but he wants that even more. He wants to make Neil feel good. Nodding, he reaches down and runs his fingers through Neil’s hair, feeling downright infatuated. He barely knows him, but he already knows that Neil is fucking amazing. He’s not only incredibly beautiful, but Olly can see that he’s got a huge heart. It shows in his eyes, how good he is. It makes Olly want to be good _for him._

“Come here, baby,” Neil whispers, reaching up for Olly and pulling him until he’s sat upright. Neil shifts until he’s sat sideways on the sofa, his back against the armrest. In seconds, he’s got his shirt ripped off and his trousers and pants pushed down and then it’s just skin. Just fucking amazing skin, amazing muscles, amazing everything. Olly takes a moment to look for one tiny flaw, but he comes up short.

Crawling between Neil’s sprawled legs, he lies down on his belly, stretched across the sofa with his face right over Neil’s cock. He looks as hard as Olly feels, wet at the tip, and Olly licks his lips, wanting to taste. Neil takes himself in hand, his other hand coming to rest gently on Olly’s head. Instead of gripping his hair, he combs his fingers through it, looking down at him with some of the amazement that Olly feels when looking at Neil.

“Sorry if I don’t last long,” he says, “but you should see how good you look like this.”

Olly smiles through his lust, dipping his head down. He has nothing to say in response, so he kisses Neil’s cock instead, and then takes it into his mouth.

Neil gasps out, “Fuck,” and drops his hand away, letting Olly take over. And Olly does, he works his mouth over Neil’s cock as well as he knows how. He gets it wet, uses his tongue, and bobs up and down, getting lost in the act. He generally likes giving blowjobs, but he’s never liked it quite this much. Neil is verbal, moaning and telling him how good it feels, and Olly lets it all wash over him like a warm, cosy blanket.

He gets so caught up in it that he misses the signs telling him that Neil is getting close. It’s not until Neil tells him, just a second before it happens, that he’s going to come. And then Olly’s mouth is filled with warm liquid, somehow sweet and bitter at the same time.

Olly waits until Neil is finished to finally pull off, swallowing. When he looks up, he sees Neil with his head dropped back, an arm bent over his face as he tries to get his breath back. He feels a bit cocky about being able to do that to him, but mostly he still feels desperate to get off himself.

“You’re amazing,” Neil says after a moment, dropping the arm away from his face and looking down at Olly, still lying between his legs. “Bloody incredible. You’ve definitely earned this.”

With that, he moves off of the sofa to help Olly onto his back, and then settles back down between his legs. He doesn’t bother pulling Olly’s trousers off, just gets his dick out and starts mouthing at it. Olly watches, wide-eyed, as Neil slides down him, his perfect cheeks hollowing out. It’s even better than the last time, and the last time had been pretty fucking perfect.

He only lasts a couple of minutes, too turned on to draw it out. Soon enough, he’s coming, fingers gripping onto Neil’s shoulders as he rides it out. It leaves him breathless, his heart racing, but Neil crawls up beside him and holds him and it’s the most bizarre feeling. They’ve still only met twice – they’re practically strangers – but Olly wraps his arms around Neil’s shoulders and feels so close to him that it frightens him a bit.

He might already like him. He definitely already wants more.

“Stay with me for a bit longer?” Neil asks, a hand rubbing up and down Olly’s back in slow, sweeping motions.

With anyone else, Olly would probably already be searching for his shirt, stuttering out an awkward goodbye. Instead, he presses his face to Neil’s neck and answers, “I suppose. A bit.”

He stays for an hour before he finally leaves, this time with Neil’s number programmed into his phone.

-

They send a few texts over the next couple of weeks, but nothing of much substance. Nothing like _I’ve really enjoyed hooking up with you and I’d like to do it again._ Olly’s schedule takes him out of the UK for two weeks, but when they come back for a festival in Wales, he already knows that Clean Bandit will be there as well.

He’s not sure if Neil will be interested in meeting. Their texts have been sporadic and it’s been a while since the last time they hooked up so he doesn’t want to assume anything. And it’s not like it’ll be a massive loss if they don’t. Olly does like him, quite a bit, but he still barely knows him.

They get to the festival grounds the day before they’re scheduled to play. They all have performances they want to see and it’s always less stressful when they can get settled in the night before performing themselves. So Olly follows Mikey into the festival grounds, Emre and Dylan splitting off immediately.

They’re queued to buy drinks when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Pulling it out, he sees a text from Neil: _Do I get to see you tomorrow?? xx_

Olly tamps down his smile; even though Mikey is far from the type to pry, he doesn’t fancy trying to explain it right now. He quickly types back, _if u want :))) we’re already here so i’ll b around_

They shuffle forward in the queue and Olly gets an immediate response. _Here where???_

_here at the fest. came early 2 c some sets._

“Who are you talking to?” Mikey asks, bumping his elbow into Olly’s.

“No one,” Olly answers immediately, looking up from his phone. He doesn’t go so far as to slide it back into his pocket, though, not wanting to miss anything from Neil.

“You’re talking to no one?”

Olly blushes and squints up at the menu, displaying prices for different drinks. “Just someone I met recently. Not a thing. Anyway, look at these fucking prices. I’ll have to spend my entire savings account just to get drunk.”

“Since when do you avoid talking about boys you’ve met?” Mikey asks, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“I didn’t even say it was a boy! Just a person. Could be a boy, could be a girl, could be someone who doesn’t adhere to the binary gender system, you –.” His phone goes off again then and he abandons the sentence and checks it, seeing Neil’s reply.

_I’m here too, want to meet up?_

Olly stares at his phone for a long moment, then looks up at Mikey who’s still studying him curiously, like he doesn’t believe anything Olly’s said. Sighing, Olly turns to face Mikey, lowering his voice.

“Okay, I met a guy. And we’ve, like, hooked up a couple of times, right? And he’s fucking beautiful and I might kind of like him but I don’t want to _like_ him because it’ll just end badly, I know it will. But also he’s here right now and I really want to go find him and maybe hook up with him again, but I don’t want to, like, abandon you.”

“Christ, just go,” Mikey says immediately, waving him off. “I’ll find Emre and Dylan. Just go have sex.”

Olly beams. Sometimes Mikey is terrible for talking stuff through with, in those situations where Olly just wants to talk and talk and talk. But now, when Olly strangely doesn’t want to share every last detail, he’s grateful for Mikey and his lack of enthusiasm for all the little details.

 _tell me where 2 meet u_ , he sends off to Neil, ignoring the butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

-

They meet just inside the entrance near the campsites and, as Olly walks up to where he’s spotted Neil standing in the swarm of people, he tries to tamp down his excitement. _It’s not a big deal,_ he tells himself. He doesn’t know anything about this guy apart from the fact that he plays violin in a band and he’s fit as fuck.

But then Neil finally meets his gaze, when Olly is a few paces away, and his face actually lights up into a bright grin. It takes Olly’s breath away for a second, seeing that reaction on Neil’s face. Just from _seeing him._

“Hello,” Olly singsongs, stopping in front of Neil and waving like an idiot. He’s already blushing; this has to be a record.

“Long time, no see,” Neil says, already moving in to hug him. “How’ve you been, pet?”

Olly is caught off-guard by the hug, but he relaxes into it quickly. He inhales deeply – _how does Neil always smell so good?_ – and closes his eyes, pressing his face into Neil’s shoulder. “Good. Busy.”

“Yeah? Well, you’ve got all night to relax now,” Neil says, and just when Olly is expecting him to suggest nipping off somewhere to fuck, he adds, “Want to go catch a performance?”

It feels a bit like a date, really, but Olly isn’t so naive as to think that it means anything. They’re only fucking around in the first place because they keep running into each other. It’s not as if they’d go out of their way to meet up.

That said, Olly is going to enjoy it for what it is.

“Lead the way,” Olly says, daring to press a light kiss just under Neil’s ear before pulling away.

Neil doesn’t hold Olly’s hand as they walk toward one of the stages. Olly pretends not to be just a tiny bit disappointed.

-

He may not have held his hand, but as they watch Chlöe Howl from the back of the crowd, Neil’s arm slinks around Olly’s waist, more than making up for it.  They watch two performances before the sun starts to set and Olly starts wondering if they actually are going to sneak off somewhere. Maybe Neil’s decided he just wants a friends sort of thing. Maybe that was friendly waist-holding.

“Where are you staying tonight?” he asks. It might be obvious what he’s getting at, but he doesn’t care.

Neil turns away from where a band that Olly doesn’t know is playing on stage, looking to Olly. “Just on the bus. Not much for camping. What about you?”

“Camping’s alright,” Olly answers, shrugging. He’d done it a few times as a kid and had a decent time.

“No,” Neil laughs, shaking his head, “I mean, where are you staying?”

“Oh.” Olly blushes, smiling at the misunderstanding. “Sorry, yeah, we’re at a hotel a bit down the road. No fancy tour buses for us.”

The band finishes their song with a long note that fades into the sounds of the crowd cheering as Neil turns to Olly. He ducks his head down until their faces are close enough that Olly can feel his breath on his lips. “I love a good hotel room,” he says, lifting his eyebrows in a suggestion. “Don’t suppose you’d like to bring me along?”

Olly sighs, very nearly breathing out, _finally._ Instead, he chews on his bottom lip for a second and then says, “Suppose I would.”

-

Having Neil in a proper bed, in a properly private room, is different than the last two times they’d done this. They can stretch out, take their time shedding clothes and rolling around in bed. It’s more intimate, which comes with a certain amount of added excitement.

“What do you want?” Neil asks once they’re naked, Olly pressed between the bed and Neil’s strong body.

“Anything,” Olly answers, because it’s true. He’d take anything Neil gave him at this point.

Neil shakes his head, though, his hips rolling forward firmly enough to make Olly release a soft moan. “Not anything. What do you want most? Tell me.”

Olly can’t even decide. He wants it all, he honestly does. He wants this to happen again and again, until they run out of things to try. And then he wants to go back through them again. “Fuck me,” he finally says, his voice cracking. As soon as he’s said it, he knows that it’s the right answer; it’s what he wants most.

“Yeah,” Neil whispers, his lips turning up into a smile. “Yeah, good.”

Neil is gentle but confident as he works Olly open on his fingers. He doesn’t have to ask when he’s ready for more, just checks in to make sure that everything’s okay whenever Olly falls silent, too focused on the feeling of Neil’s fingers moving inside him to speak. The last time Olly’d been fucked, the guy had flipped him over onto his belly, only bothering to say filthy things that had turned Olly on in the moment, but left him feeling dirty and awful when the guy had left as soon as he was done. Neil keeps looking at him, talking to him, checking in, and Olly doesn’t really know how to deal with that.

Once Neil is inside him, though, Olly stops worrying about it. Neil rocks into him, kissing him and whispering how gorgeous he is, and Olly just takes it. He lets himself have it, just this once, lets himself enjoy a fuck that doesn’t make him feel rubbish as much as it feels good.

“What do you want?” Neil asks again as he’s fucking into Olly, staring down at him with unwavering focus.

Olly wraps his arms around Neil’s shoulders, clings to him, and pulls Neil down to press their foreheads together. Closing his eyes, he says, “Just this. Exactly this.”

Eventually, he comes with Neil’s hand wrapped around him, Neil’s cock filling him up, Neil’s eyes watching him so closely. Olly’s own eyes grow wet as he does, knowing without a doubt that this is the best sex he’s ever had in his life and foolishly hoping that there will be more of it. He shouldn’t hope for such things, he knows, but as he comes down from his orgasm, he’s feeling just honest enough with himself to admit it. He wants more, maybe a lot more.

Neil comes moments later, when Olly’s mind has cleared a bit and he can study the way Neil’s eyelids flutter, his beautiful mouth falling open around a silent moan. Olly feels it inside of him, the throb of Neil coming, and he smiles, amazed that he was enough. _He_ made Neil come.

When he’d usually be curling up into a ball alone, he’s still smiling, curling up at Neil’s side instead.

-

After they’ve cleaned up, something strange happens. First, Neil doesn’t leave. Second, Neil starts asking him questions.

“Tell me about you,” he says, running his fingers over Olly’s side. They’re still naked, the covers down over their hips, lying on their sides facing each other.

Surprised by the question, Olly takes a moment before answering, “Not sure what there is to say.”

“Pick something,” Neil urges gently. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Just tell me something.”

Olly racks his brain to think of something that isn’t completely stupid. “Okay,” he says slowly. “Uh, I grew up in the middle of nowhere. We moved around a lot, but I always wanted to move to London, live the big city life. I’ve got a brother who’s pretty cool. A mum who’s quite cool as well. A dad who’s decidedly less cool.” He cringes, cursing himself for starting somewhere that makes him so uncomfortable. Neil doesn’t push for more information, though, so Olly moves on to a new subject. “My legal last name is Thornton, but I go by Olly Alexander. Uh, I’m sort of a retired actor. Did a few movies and shows before I found the boys and started focusing fully on the band.”

“Oh, really? That’s interesting,” Neil says, like he actually is interested. “Is that something you’d like to go back to someday?”

“Not really,” Olly answers honestly. “It kind of happened by chance. It wasn’t, like, a passion of mine or anything.” When Neil doesn’t say anything, as if he’s waiting for Olly to tell him more, Olly takes the opportunity to shift focus. “Your turn. You tell me some things about you now.”

Neil smiles at him, pulling him a bit closer, and Olly goes gladly. “Well, you know I play violin. Have done for ages, since I was quite young. I have a sister, Maya, who plays, like, everything. Honestly, I think you could hand her an instrument she’s never seen before and she could figure it out in under an hour. She’s brilliant and I hate her.” His bright smile tells Olly that he does not, indeed, hate his sister. “I studied at Cambridge, history for my undergrad work and a master’s in economics. I was juggling uni and the band for a while and when I graduated, I decided to stick with the music for the time being.”

Olly groans, curling into Neil and pressing his face into his chest. “Okay, stop talking now. You’re getting even more irresistible and you were quite hard to resist in the first place.”

Neil laughs as he wraps his arms around Olly, pulling him into a tight embrace. “Oh, yeah? Is that what does it for you?” He lowers his voice to a whisper then, adding, “What if I told you I was first in my class?”

With another groan, Olly pushes him onto his back, crawling over him. “Shut up,” he whines, dropping down to kiss him. “Christ, you really are perfect, aren’t you? This won’t do at all.”

“Not perfect,” Neil murmurs, curling a hand around Olly’s neck to pull him in for more kisses.

“Prove it,” Olly breathes between kisses, his lips resting against Neil’s. “Tell me one of your imperfections.”

He can feel Neil’s lips curl into a smile against his own. “I like attention,” he whispers. “I need loads of attention and I get very whiny if I don’t get it. It’s not cute.”

Olly can’t even imagine someone like Neil not getting attention. He can’t imagine being anywhere near him without focusing all of his attention on him. Like that first time Olly had seen him, before they’d even spoken. His attention was drawn so intensely to him, like a magnet. And that’s exactly what he is, Olly decides; he’s fucking magnetic.

“You have my attention,” Olly says into Neil’s lips. “It’s all yours. Now what are you going to do with it?”

In a second, Olly is flipped onto his back, Neil above him. Neil stares down at him for a long moment, those dark brown eyes scorching into Olly’s so intensely that it almost takes his breath away. “Return it,” Neil answers hoarsely, and then dips down to snog Olly dizzy.

 _I can’t like you,_ Olly thinks to himself. _I can’t like you, don’t make me like you._

It’s too late though. He already likes him. Oh god, he really, _really_ likes him.

-

Neil spends the night and Olly can’t really remember the last time he slept with someone he’d fucked. Sometimes he convinces Mikey or Emre or James or one of his other mates to sleep with him so he has someone to cuddle, but it’s never like this. He never falls asleep to fingers tracing circles over his stomach, soft kisses pressed to the back of his neck.

And only once did he wake up with a hard dick pressed against his bum, but neither he nor Emre like to talk about that.

“Morning,” Neil rasps when Olly stretches, waking up.

“Morning,” Olly repeats, still not completely conscious.

Neil gives him a light squeeze, kissing his shoulder. “Can I ask you a question?”

It’s too early for questions, or any kind of thinking at all, but Olly nods anyway. “Sure.”

“Is this something you want to keep doing? Like, do you want to keep this up with me?”

Christ. It’s _definitely_ too early for that kind of question. “Um,” he says, bringing his hands up to wipe his eyes, and then presses his face into the pillow. “Do you want to?” Honestly, even if Neil says no while they’re still in bed together, it still won’t be the most bizarre way he’s been dumped. That one guy who did it _while_ they were fucking will always win that prize.

“Had I not made that clear?” Neil asks with a sleepy chuckle. “I definitely do. I mean, I’m not sure – I haven’t had an actual relationship in years, so I’m not sure about jumping into anything like that, but –”

Olly groans into his pillow, in disbelief that he’s barely woken up and they’re talking about relationships. Just hearing the word makes his shoulders tense up.

“I’m sorry,” Neil says, laughing again. “I just mean that, if we’re going to keep fucking, it might be good to talk about it a bit? Like, things we’re into and stuff.”

Oh. Well, that’s an entirely different kind of conversation. “Can I, like, brush my teeth first?” Olly asks. He flips around onto his back, finally getting his first look at Neil in the morning. His hair is a mess, but in an unbelievably sexy way, and his eyes are just a little bit puffy. He’s bloody gorgeous like this, but Olly isn’t surprised one bit.

“Yeah,” Neil answers. He smiles, but it’s softer than the smiles he usually gives Olly. It’s not that smouldering seductive smile and it’s not that bright grin that Olly has grown familiar with. “Go brush your teeth and I’ll brush my teeth and we’ll brew some tea and then we’ll talk about what kind of sex we’d like to have.”

Olly bursts into laughter and then rolls out of bed, shaking his head to himself. Neil really is ridiculous sometimes, but that only makes Olly like him more.

After they’ve both brushed their teeth and they’ve got two cups of tea poured, they settle back into bed. It’s just past eight and outside the window the sky is very grey, but it does nothing to tamp down Olly’s mood. He’s spent the night with an incredibly fit bloke that he quite fancies and now they’re going to talk about their sexual likes and dislikes. It’s a perfect morning, really.

“So, since you brought this up, you have to start,” Olly says, cradling his cup of tea where he’s sat up against the headboard. “Is there something in particular you want? Or don’t want?”

“Not really anything in particular,” he says, smiling over at Olly. “I just don’t want to do something and then find out that you’re uncomfortable with it. Has everything so far been good?”

Olly can’t help but let out a little laugh at that question. “Good? Uh, yeah, it’s been quite good. Yes.”

“All right,” Neil says, dropping one hand to Olly’s thigh, the other holding his tea. “Do you prefer to stick with the bottom or do you like to switch?”

Olly actually has to think about that. Honestly, ninety percent of his sexual encounters have had him getting fucked, just because the guys he’s had sex with haven’t really asked. It just always goes that way, and that’s fine because Olly isn’t against it by any means, but that doesn’t mean that it has to be that way.

“I’m fine either way,” he finally answers. “Like, I usually do bottom, but I like it both ways.”

“Do you usually bottom because you like that _more_ or that’s just what other people have wanted you to do?” Neil’s gaze is calculating, like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle. It makes Olly feel self-conscious, but not really in a bad way.

“A bit of both, I suppose,” he answers with a shrug. “I guess I’m more comfortable on bottom, but that’s probably because I’m more used to it. I’m – I’d like to try it the other way round with you. If you want to.”

The calculating look softens into a little smile as Neil squeezes his thigh. “Yeah, I’d like that. I loved fucking you – like, _a lot_ – but I bet you’d feel amazing inside me, too.”

Olly’s fingers clamp down on his cup just from the words, the thought of being inside of Neil. “Okay, so that’s something for the to-try list, yeah?”

Neil grins, running his knuckles slowly over Olly’s thigh. “Yes. Now, what else? Anything slightly out of the ordinary that you want? Something you like or just something you want to give a go?”

“No, no, you have to start,” Olly argues. “I have to see what your tolerance for weird shit is before I go suggesting anything.”

Laughing, Neil says, “Oh, babe, you’ve no idea how tolerant I am.” His eyes are twinkling and it makes Olly’s stomach swoop. “Honestly. One guy I was dating asked me to eat fresh fruit for him as he wanked himself, just watching. And it was cool, like for whatever reason, that did it for him. And I like fruit, so.” He shrugs, still smiling.

Olly almost wishes some of the guys he’s been with had asked him to do that instead of the stuff they’d asked.

“I like things that involve some risk of being found out,” Neil goes on. “Like, handjobs under the table at a restaurant or maybe wearing a plug out in public. Like, hiding in plain sight? I’m into that. And, you know the tour bus? When I had you get me off before you were allowed? I really liked that.”

Olly flushes, nodding. “Yeah, I liked that, too.”

“Yeah? Okay, what else?”

Taking a deep breath, Olly looks down into his tea. He may as well just be honest, even if it makes him sound like a freak. Even if Neil doesn’t want to do it. “I wouldn’t be against you, like, saying kind of rude things? Not like outright insults or anything, but, like, pointing out how desperate I am to get fucked and stuff? Kind of using me a bit?” His skin is on fire, just saying it. He’s never had to say it before; usually that’s just what happens.

“Olly, look at me,” Neil urges gently, sliding his hand down to squeeze it over the curve of Olly’s knee. When Olly finally does look up, humiliated by what gets him off, Neil leans in and kisses him softly. “That’s not weird, babe. I’m totally fine with that if it’s what you really want.”

“Not all the time,” Olly says quickly. “I definitely don’t want it all the time, and – and, if we do it like that, I need you to stay after. You can’t just leave.”

Neil frowns then, hurt flashing in his eyes, and Olly kicks himself for bringing this up. At the beginning of the conversation, he’d thought they’d just be talking about fun sexy things and now it feels like he’s baring way more of himself than he’d planned.

“I wouldn’t leave, Olls,” Neil says softly, bringing a hand up to cup Olly’s jaw.

Olly’s heart flips in his chest, the corners of his lips tugging up into a small smile. “Olls,” he repeats, liking the sound of it already. “Too bad your name is already monosyllabic. Can’t really shorten it for you.”

Sheepishly, Neil says, “Actually, my name isn’t really Neil. That’s my middle name.”

“Seriously?” Olly asks, outraged that he’s just now finding this out. “So, what’s your name then?”

“My full name is Milan Neil Amin-Smith.”

Olly’s eyes go wide, his mouth dropping open. “I’m gonna need you to repeat that for me. Maybe write it down.”

Neil laughs, and then repeats it slower, adding spaces between the words. “You see why I go by Neil now,” he adds, grinning.

“So, does everyone call you Neil? Or do special people get to call you Milan?”

“Almost everyone calls me Neil now,” he says with a shrug. “My parents use both, but even my sister almost always uses Neil.”

Olly’s glad; it would be kind of strange to get used to calling him by a new name now. “Okay, well, I’ll stick with Neil until I come up with my very own nickname for you.”

“Sounds good,” Neil tells him, setting his cup of tea down on the bedside table. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes, sex. How do you feel about being held down?”

A laugh cracks out of Olly, harsh and bright, and Neil grins, taking his cup away, too. He curls closer then, kissing Olly even as he laughs. He barely gets out his answer, that yes, he would very much like to be held down, before Neil is kissing him deeper, effectively putting the conversation on pause.

Olly is okay with that. He’d rather start putting some of their ideas into action anyway.

-

Having the confirmation that they will indeed be keeping this up makes it a lot less stressful for Olly. He still doesn’t want to get ahead of himself, but he doesn’t have to question it every time their paths cross, whether or not it’ll happen again. He feels more comfortable texting Neil to make plans to meet, going right up to him without worrying if Neil will want to see him. And he doesn’t have to panic about what any of it means, knowing that it’s just a summer thing. Neil had basically said himself that he doesn’t want a relationship, so Olly can kind of relax into it instead of worrying what it all means.

Their schedules aren’t completely identical, but they’re similar enough that they see each other two or three weekends each month. And, as the weeks go on, they text more between meetings, too.

The second weekend in June, something sort of strange happens. Apparently two of Neil’s bandmates, Jack and Grace, meet Mikey and Emre by chance before their performances. Olly is actually walking back toward the stage with Neil when Emre stops him and lets him know that they’ve been invited round to the tour bus of some band they’d met, Clean Bandit. Neil laughs next to him and Emre squints curiously at him, finally asking who he is.

So, that night, all of Olly’s band and all of Neil’s band pile into the lounge area of the tour bus, telling stories and laughing and eating a random assortment of food, including hummus, sweet potato crisps, and popcorn. Olly isn’t sure if Neil has told anyone that they’ve been fucking, but no one seems to treat him weirdly. He doesn’t even get glared at by Grace, who Olly understands is Neil’s best friend for life.

They pop in a film later and Olly and Neil have tucked up next to each other in the corner of the sofa with a blanket pulled down over them. Olly remembers their talk from a couple of weeks before and he gets an idea, his heart starting to race with the excitement of it. Slowly, quietly, he shifts under the blanket, moving his right hand over Neil’s thigh and letting it rest between his legs. He doesn’t move it, just lays his hand on Neil’s soft cock like a question, waiting to see what reaction he’ll get.

After only a minute or so, Neil puts his own hand on Olly’s, squeezing it around his rapidly hardening cock, and that’s all the confirmation he needs. Olly rubs him through his trousers until he’s straining through the fabric, and then he slinks his hand underneath, getting Neil wrapped up in his fist. He wanks him like that, slowly enough that the blanket doesn’t rustle too much, but enough to get him off. Olly is quite impressed when he does come, managing to stay completely silent even though his whole body goes tense with it.

The next weekend, they make plans to camp together Friday night. Olly’s playing Friday and Neil is playing Saturday, so between, they set up a tent in the muddy field full of drunk and stoned twenty-somethings. After strolling around the festival for a while, catching a couple of performances, they go back to their meagre little tent and lock themselves away.

“Since you did my thing last week, I was thinking we could try your thing this week,” Neil suggests, lying down next to Olly on the soggy ground, only a sheet of nylon and a thin blanket under them. “Only I don’t want to go too far or anything, so I need you to tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

Olly nods, but he’s not sure that he’ll even know if it’s too far until later.

“Do we need a safeword?” Neil asks gently, skimming his hand over Olly’s side. “Or do you think you’ll feel comfortable speaking up and telling me to dial it down a bit if it gets too much?”

“I’m not really sure,” Olly tells him. It’s mostly dark in the tent, just a bit of light from the festival permeating the walls of it. There are a host of noises outside, but it’s like they’re completely detached from it all in here. He feels safe, somehow, being candid. “I’ve never done it in a controlled way, like on purpose. Usually guys just say sort of degrading shit to me because they want to, not because I asked them to or said it was okay.” Neil cringes in the shadows, so Olly is quick to continue. “The thing is, I like it during. It gets me off. It’s just when they leave without –”

“Taking care of you,” Neil whispers, touching Olly’s cheek.

Breathing in a shaky breath, Olly nods. “Yeah. It leaves me feeling like everything they said was true. And it’s not so hot then.”

Neil kisses him, soft on the mouth and cheek, the corner of his eye. “That’s not going to happen this time. A tornado could tear through this field and I wouldn’t leave you, okay?”

Olly’s chest hurts with how much he likes Neil, how much he likes fucking him and being with him and laughing about stupid shit. He likes how honest he is, how confident and sexy and caring he continuously proves himself to be. He likes him so much that it scares him, honestly. It’s a fling and there’s an end date a couple of months off and he can’t forget that.

In the end, they do set up a safeword, just in case, but Olly doesn’t need to use it. Hearing Neil’s voice tell him how pretty he is with his legs spread like that, so needy for Neil’s cock, is fucking worlds different than any of the guys who’d taunted him in bed before. Neil fucks into him hard, breathing into his ear a constant stream of filth, how much Olly loves getting fucked, how easy he is for Neil, how Neil could tell the first time he’d seen him dancing around on that stage. It all leaves Olly feeling dirty, but in the good way. In the _hot_ way.

After, Neil never stops touching him, kissing him, telling him how great he is. And Olly, for once, doesn’t feel uncomfortable under the praise.

-

Halfway through July, Olly realises something terrible. In the days, sometimes weeks between seeing Neil, he starts to miss him. Full-on, aching chest, sulking alone in the corner _miss_ him. He misses kissing him and fucking him, but maybe even more, he misses lying in bed – or on a sofa, or in a tent, or wherever they might end up – with him, talking and laughing. He misses tracing the creases by Neil’s eyes when he smiles, misses holding his bloody hand.

At first, he’d just texted Neil when he felt particularly lonely, or even called him for a quick chat. But as time goes on, he realises that it’s not loneliness that he’s feeling; it’s the lack of _one_ person, not people in general. Now that it’s fully sunk in, he holds back from texting him. He’s already let it go too far; he can’t let it progress any further or this will all end miserably. If he can control it, keep it manageable, then he can finish off the summer with a semblance of satisfaction. He can take the fond memories of a summer filled with music and crowds and fantastically intimate moments with a fantastically wonderful man and move on.

He limits how often he texts Neil, regardless of how many he receives, and lets his sporadic calls go to voicemail only to apologize later for missing them, making up some excuse or another. He fights like hell to keep some emotional distance, but when they’re scheduled for the same festival after two weeks apart, he doesn’t hesitate to agree to meet up. He doesn’t want to cut it short; he just needs to try to keep it as simple as possible.

When they meet on a Saturday night just inside the festival gates, it’s pouring rain and Olly’s got his hood uselessly pulled up over his head. He’s soaked through, but the air is warm, so it’s not terribly unpleasant. He sees Neil standing just where he’d said he’d be, with an actual waterproof jacket shielding him from the downpour.

When Olly gets to him, Neil seems to search his face for a moment, like he’s looking for something. When he leans in for a kiss, he does so slowly, hesitating like he’s waiting for something. It throws Olly off for a moment, but instead of overanalysing and worrying over it, Olly just closes the distance himself and presses his lips to Neil’s, glad when Neil immediately deepens it.

Instead of heading for one of the stages, or even to Neil’s tour bus, Neil pulls Olly past everything, straight toward a thick clump of trees along the edge of the festival grounds. Ignoring the pathways, he leads Olly straight into the thick of them, where the leaves act as a shield from the rain. A clap of thunder rumbles through the sky and Neil stops, gently pushing Olly back against the thick trunk of a giant Elm.

They’ve barely even said hello to each other, so Olly gasps when Neil surges forward, kissing Olly’s wet mouth, pressing him hard against the tree. His stomach drops and his hands find Neil’s shoulders, slinking around them to hold on as he kisses back until he’s dizzy, whimpering into Neil’s mouth. And then, just as suddenly, Neil pulls away.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” he breathes heavily against Olly’s lips. He doesn’t ask a question outright, but one lingers in the air between them.

“Yeah,” Olly replies. “Just been busy.”

Neil pulls back further, until he can look Olly in the eyes, studying him. The look makes Olly’s insides feel like jelly, all wobbly and off balance. Neil is so fucking intense that he can bring Olly to his knees with one glance, can make him feel lightheaded with just a touch.

“You sure that’s all it is?” Neil asks, his voice soft, almost drowned out by the rain still pouring down, hitting the leaves above them with sharp little splashes.

Between Neil’s intensely calculating gaze and the thunderstorm and something else, something raging in Olly’s own chest, he finds himself unable to lie. He shakes his head, and then takes a deep breath, wiping his thumbs under Neil’s ears. His hood must have fallen down before they’d made it under the shelter of the trees, his hair clumping with droplets of water.

“I don’t want to get in too deep,” he admits, unsure if he’s being sincere for Neil’s sake or if this is some kind of emotional masochism. “It’s already – I’m already further in than I should be. I’m just trying to hold back, to keep some distance.”

Neil processes that for a moment, his lips twitching just slightly, and then his hands are in Olly’s wet hair, his fingers curling into it and his head tilting forward, closer. “I don’t want to hold back, Olls. I don’t want any fucking distance. Who cares if it’s just this summer? I don’t want to hide the fact that I’m so into you that I lose my breath when I look at you. I don’t want to pretend that I don’t think of you every bloody day. I don’t want to act like this doesn’t mean anything just because it might not last beyond September, because it does, okay? It _does_.”

Olly is breathless, shaky by the time Neil finishes speaking. There’s a lump in his throat that won’t go down no matter how hard he swallows and he’s never had this; he’s never had anyone be so passionate about him, much less say it to his face.

“Baby,” Neil whispers, tipping down to kiss Olly’s trembling lips. “Please don’t pull away from me.”

Olly’s heart is in his throat as he says, “What if it hurts more when it ends though? What if it’s more painful because we didn’t hold back?”

“Sometimes pain isn’t the worst thing,” Neil answers, his thumb grazing Olly’s cheek. “Sometimes feeling nothing at all is so much worse than pain.”

Olly closes his eyes, drawing in a shaking breath. He’s fucking terrified of what he’s risking, but his resolve was weak anyway and he wasn’t actually sure how long he’d be able to keep distance, so he nods and chokes out, “Okay. Okay, I – okay.”

In the back of his head, he knows that he’s only got a couple of months left until the devastation hits, but he’ll try to worry about that when it comes. At least when it does, he’s quite sure that it will make a bloody good broken-hearted love song.

-

The weeks pass in a blur of intensely good sex, stolen private moments, and long phone conversations to get them through the time apart. Olly stops fighting his desire to get closer to Neil, to learn more about him and to fall harder and harder for him. He gets comments that his performances are getting better, the energy radiating out of him. His friends point out how much happier he's been.

Neil seems more light-hearted, too, teasing Olly and laughing with him as their fingers lace together between them. His sense of humour is sarcastic and biting, can even seem rude at times, but Olly’s gotten so used to it that it doesn’t faze him anymore. It’s become clear that Neil used to hold back his little quips and jabs, but now that he knows that Olly can take it, he doesn’t bother. He’s a complete arse sometimes, actually, but somehow that just makes Olly like him even more.

But he’s not always a sarcastic arse. He also whispers about how happy Olly makes him and it’s almost too much for Olly; it almost destroys him, hearing Neil say those things in the dark when they’re completely wrapped up in each other. He has to fight not to let it scare him to death.

One weekend in August, when Olly is walking to Clean Bandit’s bus to meet Neil before a performance, he finds him standing outside it, frowning at the ground. Olly’s stomach flips nervously at the sight; usually Neil is looking for him, smiling. This time, when he lifts his head and sees Olly, the smile doesn’t come.

“Hey,” Olly says, trying not to think the worst. “Everything okay?”

Neil shakes his head, but he steps straight up to Olly, pulling him into a tight hug. “Can we get out of here please? Just for a little bit?”

Olly frowns into Neil’s shoulder, holding onto him and feeling the tension in his muscles. “I only have a couple of hours before I have to be ready to go on,” he says. “Don’t reckon we can go far.”

“I don’t care,” Neil answers heavily. “Just wherever. Away. Just us.”

In the end, Olly pulls him to the far edge of the field that’s serving the purpose of a car park. They sit in the grass and Neil explains that he’s tired of constantly being on the road, misses his family and his bed and the quiet. Olly lets him get it out, all of the shit that’s bothering him, and then he moves to sit between Neil’s thighs, face to face, his own legs bent up, parted around Neil’s waist.

“Hey, I know it’s not home, but it’s just you and me now,” he says, cupping his hands around Neil’s neck. “It’s just us and it’s – well, it’s not really quiet, is it, but pretend that all of that noise over there is like street noise. And, for the next couple of hours at least, we’re not going anywhere. Just you and me, staying still.”

Neil looks into his eyes a beat too long, touches his fingertips to Olly’s jaw a hair too softly, and says, “I – ” before falling silent. He curls into Olly, twists his fingers into the back of Olly’s t-shirt, and rests his head on Olly’s shoulder, just breathing.

It’s the first time Olly’s seen Neil so fragile and he feels an ache throb through his chest, wishing he could make it all better.

 _I do, too,_ he thinks in his head, afraid that he knows exactly what Neil had been about to say.

-

By the last festival of the summer, they both clearly know what’s coming. Neither of them have brought it up, either just to confirm that this is the end or to suggest that it _not_ be the end. Olly knows that it has to be and Neil clearly does, too. They’ll both be touring, Olly in Europe and Neil in America, and neither of them is equipped to sustain this at all, much less over long distance.

After checking on Olly’s availability, Neil books them a hotel room for the night of their last festival performances. They’re both playing in the afternoon and neither has to leave that night, so it gives them plenty of time together. Just once more.

When they get to the hotel, Olly finds that Neil has booked them the nicest suite they have, including a huge jacuzzi bath. Neil immediately suggests that they get in, stripping off his shirt, and Olly certainly isn’t going to say no to a wet, naked Neil.

The jacuzzi is heavenly, but mostly because Neil pulls Olly into his lap and they snog slowly as the jets rush around them until their skin wrinkles. Even then, Olly doesn’t move to get up, wanting to drag the moment out for as long as possible. He traces his pruny fingertips over Neil’s chest, his arms, up to his neck, hauling him closer until Olly can’t breathe in anything but Neil.

“Can’t fuck me in here, you know,” Neil finally murmurs. “How about we go to bed?”

Olly finally slides off of Neil’s lap with a little sigh. Everything feels like an ending in his overly dramatic state of mind. The end of their first bath together. Their _last_ bath together. Everything tonight is their last and Olly can feel it weighing heavy in his bones.

They get dried off and slip into the large bed, still naked, meeting under the covers. Neil’s arms wrap around his waist and just when Olly is about to get caught up in the sadness swirling in his mind, Neil squeezes him and pulls away from the kiss to say, “You’re so fucking tiny, Olls.” He smirks at Olly’s indignant frown and whispers, “Tiny baby animal. Like a little kitten. Or a baby bird. One of the really small ones.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Olly says, laughing, and smacks Neil’s arm. “I’m not that fucking small. You’re just, like, stupidly tall and muscular.”

Neil hums like he’s thinking about it, but quickly shakes his head. “Nah, you’re just tiny.”

He laughs and Olly laughs, too, and it hurts a little bit, under the happiness, but Olly doesn’t want to prematurely break his own heart. He wants to have this one last night and he wants it to be a good one, so he shoves everything else aside, focusing on the moment.

They’re on the same page tonight, taking everything slowly. It’s not like the rushed handjobs they’ve shared in a loo or a dark corner just before going onstage. It’s not like when they fuck fast and hard on Neil’s tour bus, knowing that they could be interrupted at any moment. It’s not sex for the sake of orgasms; the orgasms tonight are almost an afterthought.

Tonight is all about being together, nothing more.

“Since you’re all squeaky clean from the bath,” Olly says, wagging his eyebrows, already traveling down Neil’s body. As he slides down between Neil’s legs, nosing at his cock, Neil stares at him like a hawk watching its prey. This time, though, it’s the other way around. He kisses Neil’s hip and then sits back on his calves. “Turn over for me.”

He’d been almost surprised by how much Neil had liked this last time, how his confident veneer had cracked with just a touch of Olly’s tongue. It had been so fucking beautiful that Olly can’t think of anything he’d like to do more tonight. If he could, he’d do it all over again; he’d let Neil tie his wrists together, he’d ride Neil’s cock to make himself come, he’d fuck Neil over the hood of a stranger’s car in the vast festival car park. He can’t do it all, of course, but at least he can do this.

Neil gets settled on his stomach, spreading his legs nice and wide, and Olly kisses over the soft mounds of his bum before pulling them apart. Dipping down, he licks slowly, gently, until he feels Neil push back into it, his muscles going lax. Only then does Olly focus his tongue where Neil is most sensitive, flicking it across Neil’s rim and carefully pushing it in.

“God,” Neil gasps as Olly loosens him up, pressing until the full thickness of his tongue can squeeze inside.

Olly doesn’t let up for ages, keeping his face buried in Neil’s arse until he needs to pull back to breathe, lightheaded. He sits back and looks at Neil, trying to commit the sight to memory: his spread legs, the red marks on his arse from Olly’s fingers, the long lines of his back, and, most importantly, his head turned to the side, his eyes closed and lips parted. 

“Can I take a photo of you?” Olly asks softly. When Neil shifts to look back at Olly, he stops him, dropping his hands to his back. “No, just like this. Can I?”

“Okay,” Neil answers almost immediately, closing his eyes. “If you really want.”

There’s a slight smile spreading across his lips now, though, so Olly knows that he doesn’t mind one bit.

He takes the photo, marveling at Neil’s body on the screen of his phone and wondering for just a moment if he’s going to be wanking or crying over the photo in the coming weeks. Both, probably, but that’s something to worry about later. For now, he slides off of the bed, going to grab the lube from his bag.

He gets Neil on his back to work him open with his fingers, in no hurry to get it over with. Usually at this point, regardless of who he’s with and which position he’s in, it’s a rush to get to the next part. This time, he goes slowly, really feeling Neil from the inside and letting Neil feel him. It’s more intimate than any fingering that Olly’s been involved in before and he feels another surge of sadness threaten to swallow him up. He does the only thing he can think to do, finding Neil’s lips and kissing him until Olly’s thoughts disappear completely.

“Feel like fucking me yet, little bird?” Neil murmurs after a few minutes and, as soon as he’s said it, his lips curl into a smile against Olly’s.

“Jesus, Neil, I’m _average sized_ ,” Olly huffs, fondly exasperated. Secretly, he kind of loves it, but he’s not going to let Neil see that. “You’re such a dick.”

Neil just smirks up at him and then says, “You love me.”

Olly’s breath catches in his throat.

He falters, but just for a second. Neil had said it as a joke and he can’t – he _can’t_ – let it be more than that. Dropping his gaze from Neil’s eyes, he can feel how hot his skin has gone. Olly always falls too hard, too fast. He always falls wrong, always gets hurt in the end.

In an attempt to gloss over the moment, he pulls his fingers out, fussing with the condom. He gives himself a few quick strokes to make sure he’s plenty hard and slips it on, smearing lube over himself. When he finally looks up again, meeting Neil’s eyes, he can tell that the moment hadn’t gone by unnoticed. The words are still hanging in the air between them like an echo.

“You ready then?” Olly asks. When Neil nods, Olly knees closer and presses his cock to Neil’s hole, slipping inside.

 And finally, the echo goes quiet. Like this, the words don’t matter at all.

-

After, they settle in to sleep, but it never comes. They talk for a bit and then they keep talking into the night. Even when the conversation fades into silence, they stay curled up together and it still feels like they’re talking, in a way. Neil’s fingers graze over Olly’s back and Olly brushes his nose against Neil’s shoulder and sleep isn’t even a question. Not tonight.

As the sun starts to rise, they fuck again. It feels like a dream, halfway between night and day, and Olly holds onto Neil’s shoulders, closes his eyes, and lets his head spin and spin. He finally falls asleep after that, with early morning sun rays spilling through the window, over their naked bodies.

When he wakes up some time later, Neil is already gone.

-

Olly’s been looking forward to their month off, but it’s fucking horribly timed. Without touring to focus on, he has too much time to think. He can’t lose himself in performing, can’t keep moving. He’s stuck in a studio most days, itching out of his skin.

He’s tucked up in the corner of a sofa one day, scribbling in a notebook, when Emre flops down beside him. “What are you doing?”

“Writing,” Olly says, his hand still moving.

“Don’t you think we should be focusing on finishing the songs we already have?” Emre asks, knocking his foot against Olly’s leg. “I’m pretty sure we have enough at this point.”

Olly clenches his teeth. Nothing puts him in a bad mood like a long day in a cramped, dark studio. With no upcoming shows to look forward to. And other things that he’s trying really hard not to think about, even though they’re written all over the pages of the notebook balancing on his knee.

“I’m not writing to fill a quota,” Olly explains, trying to keep the bite out of his voice. “These aren’t even for the album. I’m just writing to write.”

He keeps writing, almost not even aware of the words that are transferring onto the page, and Emre is silent next to him for a couple of minutes. Finally, he speaks, his tone softer. “Another one?”

“Another what?”

“Another shithead break your heart?”

Olly finally stops his hand, going still. His lip trembles because he’s tired and he’s been in such a bad mood and if he opens the browser on his phone, he’ll see tour schedule for Clean Bandit, but if he opens the text messages under the name “Festival Neil” he’ll see a two week-old message asking if he’s at the hotel yet. Nothing since. Not a word.

“Not a shithead this time,” he says, his voice wobbling. “He’s got rather a nice head actually.”

Emre is hugging him then and Olly feels like an idiot, crying into his bandmate’s shoulder, but he can’t help it. It hurts maybe even more than he’d been expecting it to.

“Love you, Olly,” Emre whispers against his head.

Olly bites down on his lip and thinks, _at least someone does._

-

The month drags by, but the album actually starts coming together and, even though Olly is completely stir crazy from being in the studio, he’s excited for that. It’s sounding better and better with each passing day, the songs maturing and filling out. Emre and Mikey have been working so hard on it that Olly feels a bit guilty. Still, he hides away until he’s needed. Still writing.

When their next show finally starts to appear on the horizon, he starts feeling better, bit by bit. It’s something to look forward to, something to give him hope. He has to remind himself that the summer is over and it’ll be different this time around, but he thinks that maybe he can. Maybe he’ll get to a point where thinking about Neil doesn’t make his arms feel empty and his skin feel cold. Until then, he’ll put everything he’s got into the shows and get by on that.

-

Being on stage again feels like jumping into a swimming pool on a hot day. He’d needed this, the lights and the people and the microphone in his hand. He still finds himself looking over to the side, almost expecting Neil to be there watching, but he corrects himself quickly. He’s not there and he won’t be there again and it’s fine.

It’s not fine, really, but if he pretends that it is long enough, it might just stick.

He almost doesn’t want to leave the stage when they’re done, but he smiles and thanks the crowd and regretfully jogs into the shadows. He hugs a few people, wipes the sweat from his face with a towel, and then turns to head to the green room before stopping suddenly.

Because Neil – Festival Neil, _his_ Neil – is walking toward him. He’s there and he’s got a hesitant smile playing at his lips, eyebrows lifted like he’s not sure if it’s okay, him being there.

Olly just tries not to fall over.

“Hey,” Neil says, stopping in front of him. “You guys were really great tonight.”

After gaping for a few seconds, Olly says, “You’re here.” He’d known that Clean Bandit had finished the American tour a few days ago because he’s a masochist and has been tracing their steps via internet stalking for a month, but he certainly hadn’t expected this.

“Yeah,” Neil answers. His hands are shoved in his pockets. Olly isn’t sure he’s ever seen him with his hands shoved in his pockets. “Had to come out and see my favourite band. Never did watch you from out in the crowd.”

Olly doesn’t know what to say. Half of him wants to run away as fast as he can and the other wants to leap into him and kiss his face off. As it is, he’s stuck motionless, staring in disbelief.

“Okay, so, here’s the thing,” Neil says, his head ducked just a bit. “I get bored with people easily. It’s shitty, but most guys just don’t interest me that much. Either they’re unintelligent or they’re annoying or they’re just plain dull. Whatever the case, I haven’t had more than a couple of dates with someone in years because no one interests me. No one except you.”

Neil’s hesitant smile has faded into a serious expression and Olly is still stuck, can’t even look away as he goes on.

“It’s been a month and I’m still thinking about you every bloody day, Olls. And I just keep thinking, like, that never happens for me and I’m just going to give it up because I’m worried about what will happen if I try? That’s fucking stupid.”

Olly opens his mouth, maybe to agree or to make sure that Neil knows that Olly’s been thinking about him, too, but he closes it again, not trusting himself to speak sensibly in the moment. Neil just takes a small step forward until he’s right in Olly’s space, until Olly can smell him, and he tips his head close.

“I know I don’t do relationships and you only do really terrible ones, but this past summer has been so good with you and I feel like it could keep being good. I’d like to try at least.”

Olly doesn’t need to be talked into it. He’s spent the past month wishing for this moment and trying to tell himself that it’s better this way, but he’s never really believed it. He wants to try, too. He wants to try more than anything. Before he can actually say that, though, or just lean in to kiss him, Neil speaks up again.

“But before you agree to anything, you need to understand that I really do like attention. I’ll get moody and needy and I’ll get jealous when boys hit on you and I’ll get clingy when I’m not feeling well and it might not all be pretty. I might be an absolute pain at times. So, don’t say yes right now if you don’t think you can handle that mess.”

A smile twitches at Neil’s lips as he finishes and, suddenly, Olly laughs. He laughs, smiling so hard it hurts, like a lightbulb finally switching on or the moment the sun peeks out from beyond the horizon. He lifts his arms, wrapping them behind Neil’s neck, and touches their noses together.

“I can handle that mess,” he says. He can’t actually predict how this will go, but he feels hesitantly optimistic that maybe it just might work. Even if it doesn’t, in the end, it’ll be worth it for the way he feels right now.

“I love you, by the way,” Neil whispers, a moment before he presses his mouth to Olly’s.

Olly hopes that the way that his fingers tighten in Neil’s hair makes it clear that he does, too, because he’s not going to pull away from the kiss long enough to say it back. He’s not going to stop kissing him until he’s forcibly removed, probably, or until he passes out from lack of oxygen.

Later. He’ll say it later, probably a thousand times over. He’ll say it and he’ll probably be scared, but he’s not letting that stop him anymore.


End file.
